


like a prayer

by weepies



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, M/M, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:21:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22396234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weepies/pseuds/weepies
Summary: "I’ll find you," Dream-Richie recites, every night, hand outstretched.In the distance lives a reply: "Be ready to catch me."
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30





	like a prayer

The world is so loud, and Richie just wishes he could turn back the clock. He wants it so badly that he aches with pathetic desperation—that his fingers tremble at the mere thought of rewinding. Richie feels it when he wakes. It is in the pain of his neck, in the stiffness of his shoulders. It is written into his bed, on the striped pillowcase in a drip of saliva. Stitched into the flimsy childhood plushie that has fallen to the floor, birthed from a re-occuring dream.

He can never remember it when he rises, but he recalls the feeling. The ache. The desperation _._ Always the same two words, etched into the back of his skull. Richie recites them like a prayer: _Keep falling._ Those words are present as soon as Richie opens his eyes, as soon as his right hand spreads across the empty side of his bed. In that emptiness lives the hurt.

Though when he is asleep, a part-time resident of dreamland, that emptiness breathes in a hush of fresh air. (It goes like this: _Keep falling. I’ll find you._ **Be ready to catch me.** ) Richie never makes it far enough along to find out what happens next; it ends there, in an obnoxious enigma. Every morning brings the same startled conclusion.

_(I’ll find you,_ Dream-Richie recites every night, hand outstretched.

In the distance lives a reply, **Be ready to catch me**.

Then suddenly the world is so quiet. It falls to a pathetic silence, one aided by childhood memories and forgotten kisses. Eddie lives there, in the quiet. Just beside the emptiness, in the midst of The Hurt. And he reaches for Richie, with a blurred, bloodied hand.)

It hits Richie when he is at a soundcheck, the microphone enclosed within his boney hand suddenly less steady. Back in the loud, Richie realizes.

“Be ready to catch me,” Eddie will say later that night.

And Richie will stand with his arms outstretched, the weight of his gaze enough to break a scale.

Richie will say, “I’ll catch you.”

**Author's Note:**

> been playing a lot w the concept of dreams in my writing
> 
> heres a quick little somthin, basically nothin!
> 
> tyyy if ur reading my stuff in 2020 lolololol. leave me ur thoughts!


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